Snippets
by gloryblastit
Summary: Different characters points of view here and there, jumping around, little snippets.
1. Chapter 1

Johnny's P.O.V.

I didn't know if Pony was alive or what. He was just laying there all still. The soc wasn't alive, not anymore.

All the others had run off. I didn't know if they were the same ones that beat me up that time, only this one with the rings. He was the only one I was sure about.

Maybe the cops were on their way. I bet those socs went straight to 'em. It made me feel cold. Jail. Electric chair. But what the hell, I deserved it. Deserved all that and worse.

Pony was so still. Soaking wet, laying on the cement. I couldn't tell if he was breathing or not. Couldn't tell if I was.

I couldn't let go of the switchblade. It was covered with blood, and it had dripped onto my hand. I knew when I bought it I'd use it. I knew it. Cause that's what it's for, ya know? Its purpose, like destiny.

And it was like if I kept holding it, stayed real still, it might be possible to go back, to undo it. Now I was crazy. I felt crazy, sort of.

Pony started coughing up the water, gasping. I flinched at first, at the sudden movement. He lay there, gasping air in and out like a fish suddenly on land, his teeth chattering. I sighed in relief. He was alive.

He pushed himself up and leaned back against the fountain next to me. Water ran down his face, his hair was dripping wet. He turned and looked at me.

"I killed him," I said, "I killed that boy."

x….x……x

Dallas' P.O.V.

I guess I never really thought about it but I used to think I could handle anything.

It didn't matter what it was. My old man giving up on me, getting sent to juvey, getting hauled into the police station. Girls, fights, stealing, drinking, any fucking thing, and I was fine.

The first time this was shaken was four months ago when we found Johnny beaten so badly. I mean, I'd seen worse. I'd seen worse in New York, even a couple of times in Tulsa. But it was different when it was Johnny. Fucking Johnny, man. I wanted to kill those socs. If they had been there I would have torn them apart.

But he was fine. Hurt, shook up, sure. But he was still okay. He'd live. And so I went right back to thinking it, just knowing it, that I could handle anything. Cause life, to me, was sort of a game. For fun. To see what you could get away with, what pleasure you could find. And fuck money. Stealing was easy.

Then I'm at Buck's, laying up after my fight with Shepard and who shows up at three in the morning? Ponyboy and Johnny, and Ponyboy is soaking wet and Johnny just looks spooked.

I don't want to think it's anything too bad, cause for some reason I can't stand it if Johnny's in trouble. So maybe Ponyboy got in a fight with Darry for staying out late bacause Darry is always nagging at that kid, and Johnny's just still with him because he didn't want to go home. Maybe. But it doesn't explain the spooked look.

"Okay, kids, whatta ya need me for?" I say.

"Johnny killed a soc," Ponyboy said, and damn he looked like a scared kid. They both did. Johnny looked down at his sneakers. Ponyboy looked at me with a sort of pleading, like 'please help us'.

And it shook again. Johnny killed someone? Johnny, who never did nothing wrong, ever, who never stole, never did nothing and he does this? Murder? Murder ain't just a few weeks in juvey, murder is a life sentence or the electric chair.

So I get them a hideout up in Windrixville and then I start lying to myself. I tell myself they'll be fine, that the cops won't get 'em, won't find 'em. But also I go along like life's still a game.

x………x…………x

Randy's P.O.V.

I didn't know if Bob recognized that kid, the one with the black hair. Few months ago we'd ganged up on him, beat him up pretty bad. But Bob was shit faced, as usual, and probably didn't remember.

It was freezing, the wind blowing, and Cherry and Marcia were walking on the north side with a bunch of greasers. Unbelievable. But the kid with the black hair was staring at Bob, or more specifically, at his rings. And Bob laughed, drank some whiskey from his nice silver flask.

I thought we'd killed that kid, I really did. He was a bloody mess, barely even conscious when we left, when I finally had to drag Bob off of him. Jumping greasers is fun, it's kicks, but Bob was going to kill him. And the things he was saying, it just went beyond some sort of boundary. I knew it. I felt guilty about that kid.

And here he was with Cherry and Marcia, big fearful eyes, black greasy hair, same old jean jacket he wore before. And I could see him trembling, staring at the heavy gold rings Bob wore. And I saw it completely, one of those little flashes of memory like you're reliving the damn thing. David was holding that kid and Bob was just punching him over and over, in the stomach, in the face. His nose was bleeding, just pouring blood, a gash up on his cheek was bleeding, and he kind of moaned a bit and whimpered and still Bob wouldn't let up.

"Bob!" I had said, grabbing his arm mid swing, "you're going to fucking kill this kid!"


	2. Chapter 2

Cherry's P.O.V.

I was still numb from Bob being killed. Like I told Ponyboy Bob asked for it. I know he did. But there was the other side that these north side kids could never have seen. When he was sweet, how charming and funny and even considerate he could be.

Then Ponyboy asked me to go see Johnny. I felt a real connection with Ponyboy, that night at the movies, the way we talked like that. And I hadn't realized until then that I could have a connection like that with someone outside of my group. It was great, really.

And I had liked Johnny when I met him. He didn't talk much, and he had this wounded air, like he'd been hurt bad sometime. But he had seemed sweet.

But after he killed Bob, even though Bob had asked for it, had hurt and scared Johnny so bad that it wasn't surprising, what happened, I couldn't go see him.

Then they tell me, those gossips, rush up to me at school, "Did you hear?" I hadn't heard much, I was still devastated over Bob dying like that.

"That greaser that killed Bob, he died," I knew Johnny was pretty bad off so it wasn't that surprising. I mean I was sad, and a little viciously glad because he killed Bob.

"And guess what else?"

So I sighed, so tired of this gossip, because they didn't know Bob, and they didn't know how secretly sweet the greasers could be.

"What else?"

"Dallas Winston was killed that same night, the police shot him,"

And my breath caught, and I remembered that feeling I had that night at the movies. I could have fallen in love with him.

Soda's P.O.V.

I was half asleep, so tired from work and out drinking with Steve and screwing around with Sandy. When I got home around one a.m. Darry jumped on me.

"You seen Ponyboy?" He was squeezing my shoulder hard. I shrugged out of his grasp.

"No. You mean he ain't home yet?"

"No," Darry was pissed, fists clenched, teeth grinding. Mad.

"He went to the double with Dally and Johnny, it ain't that late, considering," I tried to soften the blows, I always tried to soften the blows.

"Yeah, I guess so," he said, not really agreeing with me, his eyes still dark with anger. So he sat in the chair by the phone, and soon he'd start calling people.

Darry worried so much about Ponyboy. Granted he didn't always use his head, like walking all over town alone. He saw what happened to Johnny. Man, he was lucky that didn't happen to him, lucky we showed up when we did.

But Darry worries so much about Ponyboy because he's so smart and all. It ain't the same with me. I hated school. I was awful in school. I'm just plain dumb when it comes to all that stuff.

1:30. Darry's going crazy sitting so still in that chair. And I'm kinda dozing, thinking Pony'll be alright, but he is with Dally, so you never know. With Dally sometimes all bets are off.

Then the door opening wakes me up. Ponyboy, looking sleepy and scared. Hell, if I was him I'd be scared, too.

"Where the heck have you been? Do you know what time it is?" Darry yelled, and I was afraid all hell was about to break loose.

Johnny's Mom's P.O.V.

I knew he was in trouble, more than usual. And I knew he had come back and was in the hospital.

But I didn't know he was so sick, or didn't allow myself to know it.

I lit a cigarette with a shaky hand. If he was as sick as the newspaper said, it said he'd have to go to court for manslaughter charges, "if he recovers," and the "if" was so dark and unknowable. If he was as sick as that and dies there'd be hell to face. I wasn't ready for that.

I'd go to the hospital alone. His father was passed out on the couch reeking of whiskey. So I'd go and there were two thoughts, one sort of wrapped around the other, both opposite but seeming true at the same time.

The first was that this was his friend's fault. They were always running around in the middle of the night, landing in jail, dragging Johnny with them and getting him in trouble. Now look what they'd done.

The other thought brought with it a coldness that spread over me. It wasn't his friends' fault, all this trouble, all this chaos. It was my fault. Because my marriage didn't work, because my husband was an abusive drunk and I'd lost the ability to stand up to him. Because we had to get married because I was knocked up, and the teenage boy I had married who was wild and reckless and exciting had become the monster who terrorized me and the son neither one of us had wanted.

And it was this that colored Johnny's life, that put that look of sadness and defeat into his eyes, and I was to blame. And every time he didn't come home, every time he chose to sleep on the streets instead of getting beat, that was my fault. And if he dies now I'll never get the chance to make it up to him.


	3. Chapter 3

Darry's P.O.V.

It was just lucky I was home that day. We were roofing a house but the job was cancelled, and I came home early. Soda and I were on the porch when we heard the screams.

I knew it was Ponyboy. And my heart froze.

We ran, he wasn't far. Five socs surrounded him and I just saw red. We chased them off. I was so mad I could have taken them by myself, but the rest of the gang had been near enough to hear the screams. Those five socs didn't stand a chance.

In the weeks of panic after our parents died I hung on to one thought, that I'd keep us together. I'd sacrifice college, a career, free time, to keep the three of us together. And at first it was easy to work all the time because it was a way to numb the grief. And it seemed like we might be okay even when Sodapop quit school. Then he could work more, at least.

But just lately things have been getting to me. Work's a drag. Soda isn't that great at staying out of trouble and it's impossible for Ponyboy. It's not exactly his fault, he doesn't go looking for trouble with the socs, but he doesn't exactly avoid it, either.

I hauled him up. He was bleeding, he was kind of dazed but basically okay. Not like Johnny that time they got him. Pony ain't much bigger than Johnny and certainly not any smarter when it came to avoiding trouble.

I glanced at Johnny, smoking the cigarette Dal had given him. All I could see was that scar and that scared haunted look. It could have happened to Ponyboy so easily, if I hadn't had the afternoon off…

Dally's P.O.V.

Stupid fucking hospital. I grabbed the cigarette I'd tossed in the corner when Two bit and Ponyboy were visiting, lit it up and took a nice long drag.

Fucking hospital. Can't smoke. Why the hell not? I hate all these rules.

It's getting darker, almost rumble time. I'd go, there was no question, even though my arm hurt like a motherfucker. I had to go. Cause those fuckers caused all this, it was their fault Johnny was hurt. All their fault.

I got up, got dressed, and snuck over to Johnny's room. Didn't want no nurses or doctors to see me and say, "you ain't going nowhere,"

I thought he was dead at first. So still and pale. But I could see and hear him breathing.

"Johnny?"

He opened his eyes a little and turned toward me.

"Hey," he said so softly I could barely hear him.

I was kind of frozen. There were I.V.s and shit, and he was so hurt, so sick looking, it was more than I had expected. He'd shut his eyes again.

I came closer, touched his arm where it wasn't hurt. He didn't move, didn't even open his eyes.

"Hey, Johnnycake," I said, wanting him to open his eyes, to get better.

"I'm going to the rumble, I'll show those damn socs,"

He squeezed his eyes shut, sucked in his breath suddenly.

"Shit, Johnny, what's wrong?"

After a few seconds he started breathing again and opened his eyes.

"It's…it's nothing…just hurts…" he gasped, barely able to talk. I was gonna murder those socs, every last one of them.


	4. Chapter 4

Store Clerk's P.O.V.

I hated working these night shifts. It was dangerous. Just flat out dangerous. The world wasn't like it used to be. All the drugs and drinking. Kids these days were crazy. Disrespectful.

Here comes a crazy one now. No shirt. Just a jacket. Hair the color of straw. Crazy. Strung out on something, like all these teenagers in this godless time. And there's blood on him. I'd have to keep a good eye on him.

He went over to the comics, started reading one. He was making me edgy. All fidgety, not dressed right. I could tell there was something wrong with him.

"Hey you!" I called, "you can't read that unless you're gonna buy it,"

He stared at me, colorless blue eyes that were red rimmed. Blood on his lips. High as a kite. His stare went right through me.

He held up the comic he had been reading and slowly ripped it in half.

"Hey, you can't do that. You have to pay for that,"

He came over and was I dumb enough to think he'd pay? Not for a second.

He shoved a gun in my face and I could smell it, metal and gunpowder and death.

"Punks. I'm so sick of you punks,"

It was like he didn't hear me.

"Give me the money," he said, and pressed the gun tighter to me. I didn't feel afraid, exactly. It was like the fear had reached such a level that it stopped being fear, became some other emotion without a name.

So I gave him the money and offered up a brief and tattered prayer to whichever God may have been listening. It worked. The drugged out kid took off, dropping half the money, clutching the gun. When I was sure he was gone I called the police.

Cop's P.O.V.

We got the call, squawking over the radio. Armed robbery at a convenience store near the hospital. Suspect fled the scene.

"You ready, kid?" O'Conner said. He was my partner, and a bit of a mentor. In cop parlance I was a rookie and this was my first call.

"Now remember, he's armed. He was at one point. Always assume the suspect is armed and dangerous,"

O'Conner was a grizzled old veteran. He'd been patrolling Tulsa for 30 odd years. He'd seen everything. I was as green as a bleeding sapling next to him.

"Don't hesitate to shoot," O'Conner said as we sped toward the scene. I touched my gun and felt fear course through me like blood. I swallowed. My mouth was dry. Even my eye sockets felt dry.

Johnny's P.O.V.

This church was mighty cold at night. During the day it wasn't so bad. Pony was inside sleeping, he'd been smoking a ton and hardly eating so now he felt awful.

I wanted to wake him up and get him to read more of the book but I knew he wasn't feeling great so I just left him.

I flipped through it. It made me so jealous how Ponyboy could read it easy as anything. I could never do that. I couldn't read so hot. Letters looked backwards and half the words I just didn't even know. I was really lousy at reading. I'd stay back in school again, well I would have 'cept I don't even know if I'll ever get back to school. Do they have school in jail?


	5. Chapter 5

Bob's P.O.V.

"That was real fucking nerve, man," I said, and gulped whiskey from my flask. We were driving around the north side of town, hunting down those greasers who picked up Cherry and Marcia.

"We'll probably never find 'em," Randy said, and I turned to him quick, gave him a sharp look.

"We'll find 'em," I said grimly, ignoring the slur to my words. Randy had seemed almost like he didn't want to find them. Like he was chicken shit.

Weaving down the shabby little streets, the Mustang handling like a dream. I listened to the raucous laughter and swears from the backseat.

"Well, lookit that, shit!" David said, but I was too drunk to see anything. Everything was blurred and smeared, and as we glided by the park with the fountain the movement I saw from the corner of my eye could have been anything at all.

I swung the car around, headed toward the edge of the park. And now I saw the boys, greasers for sure, and with any luck they were the little shits who'd been at the movies.

We got out, stumbled toward the greasers on the monkey bars. Even through my inebriation I could sense their fear. As we got closer I knew it was them, the two younger ones.

"You're outta your territory. You'd better watch it," one of them said. I stumbled and squinted at him. He was nearly familiar, that long greasy black hair, big black eyes. Shit. How'd I know that kid? Probably beat the shit out of him once.

"No, pal, you'd better watch it," Randy said, and the greaser flinched. I laughed.

"You know what a greaser is?" I said, coming closer to them. They narrowed their eyes at me, and the one with the lighter hair spoke.

"What?"

"White trash with long greasy hair,"

"You know what a soc is?" he shot back, and I stumbled again but caught my balance.

"What?"

"White trash with Mustangs and madras," he said, then he spit on me. For a second everything froze, and I felt an electric rage tingling fiercely through every cell, building momentum. I'd kill this little greaser piece of shit.

Little girl in the fire at the church P.O.V.

"Lucy," Peter said, whispering. I'd been picking some flowers to give to the teacher. Her name was Miss Jean.

"What?" I said, and then picked the prettiest purple flower. So pretty.

"Let's go in the church," he said. I looked at the church. Old and falling apart and empty.

"No, Miss Jean said not to,"

"C'mon, Lucy. Real quick. She won't know," Peter said that and smiled. Peter was nice but got in trouble kinda a lot.

"Well, I don't know…" I looked over at the church. It was a little scary but a little neat looking. I wondered what was in there.

Peter grabbed my hand and we ran toward it, went in. It was shadowy and cobwebby.

"Someone lives here," Peter whispered.

"What? What do you mean?"

"Look. Food. And a book, and cigarette packs, and cards. Someone lives here,"

"What if they're still here?" I said, and looked everywhere. I didn't see nobody, but Peter was right. Someone lived here.

I smelled the smoke before I saw it and heard the fire crackle before I felt the heat, but soon Peter and me were backed into a corner.

"We gotta get out!" Peter shouted over the noise of the fire.

"We can't! There's nowhere to go!" I shouted back. We were in a corner and the fire was all around. And it came to me that I would die here, not an old gray haired lady rocking in a chair like my grammy. I'd die still a little kid in preschool, and mommy and daddy would be so sad. So I closed my eyes and started screaming. Maybe mommy and daddy would hear me.

"Shut up!" I opened my eyes and saw two older boys, one with black hair and a jean jacket, the other with blond hair and a leather jacket. The one with black hair said shut up.

"We're gonna get you out!" he yelled, and reached for me through the smoke. The blond reached for Peter. I closed my eyes again as I was lifted up and into his arms.


	6. Chapter 6

Johnny's P.O.V.

Those socs got Pony. Just like they got me. Man, I hated them.

"Didya catch 'em?" Pony said, and I saw him wipe at his eyes. He was cryin' but didn't want anyone to see. It was okay. I had cried, too, but I usually don't.

Two bit answered him, and I just watched. Watched Soda clean up the side of his head where he was bleeding pretty bad, watched Darry look mad and scared and helpless all at one time. Watched Dally light up a cigarette then hand it to me.

They all talked, Two bit kinda joking, Steve trying to make Pony look bad, and Darry letting all the mad and scared and helpless come out like just being mad.

"You don't ever think," he yelled at Pony, and Pony's head was down, just staring down. I knew how he felt cause I felt like that all the time. Like a screw up.

Dally's P.O.V.

"That might cool you off, greaser. After you wash your mouth and learn to talk and act decent, I might cool off, too."

That girl, that hot little red head. I knew she was out of my league, a soc and all, but damn it was fun. I wiped the coke off my face and smiled.

"Fiery, huh? Well, that's the way I like 'em." I went to put my arm around her. Just kicks, just fun, but I liked that mad and scared way she was looking at me.

"Leave her alone, Dally." Johnny said and grabbed my arm.

"Huh?" I stared at him. It took everything I had not to hit him. I came close.

"You heard me," he said, "leave her alone."

My hands were clenched into fists but I didn't hit him. Fucking Johnny telling me what to do. Nobody did that. Nobody.

I shoved my fists in my pockets and walked away. Hot little red head, shit. But I couldn't hit Johnny. And if I stayed there one second longer I would have.

Jerry Wood's P.O.V.

I had to find a phone. I was supposed to be home hours ago, but I felt like I couldn't leave that kid who ran into the church first.

"Hey, buddy, where's a phone?" I said to a fellow in a jumpsuit pushing a broom slowly along the floor.

"Over there," he said, pointing, barely looking up. I looked where he had pointed and saw it.

"Thanks," I said.

I dropped in my dime and punched the numbers fast. One ring, two, three, four.

"Hello?" my wife's sweet voice, but I could tell she was worried.

"Hi, honey,"

"Jerry! Where are you? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm at a hospital in Tulsa,"

"What? What happened?"

"The field trip today. There was a fire at the old church up on Jay Mountain"

"Oh my God!"

"Yeah, but you wouldn't believe what happened. These three teenagers come out of nowhere, two of them run into the burning church and save the kids! Jesus, honey, it was amazing,"

"Oh my God. But um, why are you at a hospital in Tulsa?"

"The teenagers who ran into the church, well, one of them is hurt pretty bad, and the other one is pretty shook up. I just felt that I should stay with him,"


End file.
